


Can I make it any more obvious?

by olive_greets



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, I just like the idea of ten wearing johnny's clothes okay, Lowkey crushing on your best bro, M/M, Mentioned NCT Ensemble, Sexual Tension, Sharing Clothes, stealing clothes, sweet and sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive_greets/pseuds/olive_greets
Summary: As they set off towards the car, Mark looks over at Ten. “Cute sweatshirt.”“Thanks,” Ten says, a mischievous grin growing across his face. He casts a quick glance at Johnny. “It’s new.”_____Or, five times Ten steals Johnny’s clothes, and the one time Johnny finally figures out why.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 32
Kudos: 376





	Can I make it any more obvious?

**Author's Note:**

> May I offer you a nice fic in this trying time?
> 
> In order to cement my status as a bona fide fanfic writer, I have written a 5+1. 
> 
> (Title from ‘Sk8er Boi’ by Avril Lavigne)

**Sweatshirt**

“You don’t wear this, right?”

Johnny looks up from his phone to where Ten is standing by the mirror in his closet, holding Johnny’s old high school sweatshirt up to his chest.

Johnny frowns over at him. “I mean, it has sentimental value. I brought it back with me the last time I visited Chicago.”

“So that’s a no?” Ten asks, already peeling off his own sweatshirt (and the shirt underneath, for some reason). Figuring – correctly – that it would be pointless to argue, Johnny drops his eyes back to his phone. He rolls over onto his back, precariously close to the edge of the twin-size bed that is much too small for his body, and holds his phone over his face to continue scrolling mindlessly through his feed.

His eyes flick over to where Ten stands, now fully shirtless, still holding the sweatshirt up to his chest. He uses his chin to hold it up, while stretching it out along the length of his arm. The fabric is thin and faded, the original navy now a washed-out blue grey. The letters spelling out the name of the high school are peeling, though the vague outline is still visible. 

“Just take it,” Johnny says, exasperated. “Can we go? I’m hungry.”

Ten turns back to him and frowns, though something else plays at the corners of his eyes. “I’m almost done.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, then rolls off the bed. He stands and stretches, wincing as his back pops. He strolls over to the closet and grabs the sweatshirt from Ten’s hands, who looks up at him in annoyance.

“Hey - ”

But his voice gets muffled when Johnny pulls the sweatshirt over his head and attempts to wrestle it down over him. Ten immediately starts laughing and writhing in protest, so much so that he ends up elbowing Johnny in the stomach. Johnny flinches and curses, though the hard muscles of his abdomen thankfully protect his viscera from too much damage from Ten’s dangerously pointy elbow. Johnny uses one arm wrapped around Ten’s waist to keep him from squirming too much, while his other hand manages to get the sweatshirt the rest of the way down his torso. When Ten’s head finally pops out of the neck hole, his face is flushed a bright red. 

“Rude,” Ten says, though he pushes his arms through the overly long sleeves and straightens out the sweater without further protest. “You didn’t even let me put my shirt back on.”

“And whose fault is that?” Johnny asks, already picking up his bag from the shelf above his bed. “No one asked you to perform a strip tease five minutes before we’re supposed to meet Mark for dinner.”

Ten huffs – apparently with no quippy response, for once in his life – , fixes his hair in the mirror, then follows Johnny out of the room.

As they stand in the garage below the building, waiting for Mark to come down, Johnny notices that Ten’s arms are crossed over his chest.

“Still angry?” he asks teasingly. Oddly, Ten’s face is still red.

“Huh?” Ten looks confused for a moment, before looking down at his folded arms. “Oh – no.” The color spreads to the tips of his studded ears.

He lets his arms drop to his sides, tugging at the comically long hem of the sweatshirt. Beneath the thin material of the sweatshirt, and without the additional fabric of a shirt underneath, the perky buds of his nipples are clearly visible. Suddenly, Johnny’s mouth feels dry.

“It’s cold down here, okay?” Ten says defensively, following Johnny’s gaze, and Johnny quickly averts his eyes. _Where the fuck is Mark?_

“Where the fuck is Mark?” Ten whines, folding his arms over his chest again and craning his neck towards the door behind them. 

As if on cue, the elevator dings and out comes Mark, straightening out his baseball cap as he approaches them at a jog.

“Sorry, sorry, I overslept,” Mark says, out of breath. “Jungwoo keeps turning off my alarms when I’m asleep because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Not a problem,” Johnny says with a laugh, clapping Mark on the back. “Ready?”

“Hell yeah. I’m starving,” Mark says, grinning widely. As they set off towards the car, Mark looks over at Ten. “Cute sweatshirt.”

“Thanks,” Ten says, a mischievous grin growing across his face, though the flush remains. He casts a quick glance at Johnny. “It’s new.”

**Sweatpants**

Johnny wakes to the buzzing of his phone in his face. Without looking at the caller ID, he picks up. “Hello?” he mumbles, his voice groggy from sleep. In the bed beside him, Donghyuck grumbles.

“Good morning!” comes Ten’s voice, loud and cheery through the phone. Johnny sits up and rubs his eyes, barely suppressing a yawn. “I’m coming over now. You’d better be up.”

“Now?” Johnny repeats, squinting at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s only – ” He squints harder. “It’s only 10 am.”

“Yes, I know. We’re going on a run.” Before Johnny has a chance to respond, Ten hangs up. Johnny casts a glance over at Donghyuck. They had stayed up until 4 o’clock that morning playing games, and at Johnny’s advanced age of 25, six hours isn’t quite enough sleep to recover from several hours hunched over his lap desk on the floor, face inches from his laptop screen. Donghyuck looks so cozy, all cocooned up in his blanket, and Johnny yawns without realizing it.

He lays back down on the bed and closes his eyes. _Just for a moment. Then I’ll get up_. These are his futile last thoughts before he promptly falls back into the warm embrace of sleep. 

He awakens to the feeling of something heavy pressing down onto his chest. When he cracks open his eyes, he finds Ten inches from his face, grinning down at him. “Get up, lazy ass.”

“You’re sitting on me.” Johnny says thickly, looking down at Ten sitting cross-legged on his chest.

“And you’re still in bed. I told you to wake up.” Ten climbs off his chest and sits on Donghyuck’s bed instead, resting his chin on his hands as he watches Johnny struggle to sit up. Behind him, Donghyuck groans, muttering something that sounds a lot like “sleep paralysis demon,” and pulls his pillow over his head. Ten just laughs.

Johnny runs his hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he sits up and looks over at Ten. Ten is dressed in over-sized denim pants and a bright orange sweater, with his fluffy black hair mostly hidden inside of a hat.

“I thought you wanted to go running?” Johnny says, eyeing his outfit.

“I do,” Ten says. “But I just came from brunch with Kun and Sicheng, and I didn’t want to go all the way back to our dorm to change. Can I borrow some sweatpants?”

Johnny huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think my pants will fit you. Maybe Hyuck will let you borrow one of his.”

“No, he won’t,” comes Donghyuck’s voice, muffled in the blanket. Ten giggles and pokes him, to which Donghyuck, still wrapped in his blanket, rolls off the bed and onto the floor. He immediately begins snoring again.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Ten whines, now getting off the bed to stand over Johnny. He pulls his lips into a pout and clasps his hands together, the perfect picture of imploration. “Please?”

Johnny frowns up at him, though his steely reserve melts away into nothing when he meets Ten’s eyes. “Fine,” he mutters. “But you know they won’t fit you.”

Ten is already skipping over to his dresser. Johnny watches warily as Ten digs through the top drawer for several minutes, humming to himself, before pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants. He holds them up to his hips appraisingly, then begins pulling off his jeans.

“Hey,” Johnny says, keeping his eyes trained carefully on Ten’s face. “You know you can use the bathroom to change.”

Ten smiles back at him but doesn’t respond. He tugs Johnny’s sweatpants up his legs, and they immediately sag down below his waist. The fabric pools around his ankles, his feet completely obscured by a massive pile of light grey fabric. Ten frowns down at the pants, then spends several minutes rolling up the waistband and cuffing the bottoms until they he can walk around the room without tripping or having to hold the pants to keep them from slipping down.

“Satisfied?” Johnny says. Ten looks ridiculous; the pants balloon around his legs like a circus tent, and he has a huge bulge around the circumference of his waist from where they have been rolled up. They swallow up his tiny frame, making him seem even smaller.

Ten grins. “Yup.” He digs around in the dresser again and pulls out another pair of grey sweatpants. He tosses them onto Johnny’s bed. “Now put these on so we can match.”

Johnny grabs the pants but makes to move to get up. He pulls his blanket higher over his lap. “Just wait for me in the kitchen. I’ll be right out.”

Ten eyes him suspiciously, his gaze flicking to Johnny’s lap, before he shrugs and saunters out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Johnny puts in an honest effort to try not to look at his butt as he leaves; thankfully, the grey parachute of fabric around him hides most of his figure. Johnny takes a calming breath, looks at the ceiling, and hurriedly gets dressed. 

It turns out the run is no more than an excuse for Ten to catch him up on the latest gossip from around his dorm, including his theories about the suspicious noises coming from Kun’s room late last night while Dejun and Yangyang had been staying over at Chenle’s house (apparently, at brunch, Kun had maintained his innocence). As they walk along the river, stopping every few minutes for Ten to readjust the pants, Johnny breathes in deep, letting the early spring air fill his lungs. The riverside park is more crowded than he is usually comfortable with, but he is happy to let Ten ramble on, and Ten’s smile is so bright that Johnny all but forgets about the swell of people around them.

**Socks**

They are sitting on Johnny’s bed, which is almost, but not quite, big enough for the two of them. Johnny adjusts the pillow behind his back and tries to move without letting his leg brush against Ten’s. The laptop between them is playing some new Netflix show, which Johnny is trying very hard to pay attention to. Ten seems rapt, though; his eyes haven’t left the screen for the past twenty minutes, and he keeps speaking over the dialogue to make comments, to which Johnny always nods and hums in assent.

They really are quite close, and Ten keeps leaning over Johnny to look at the phone he has charging on the nightstand between the two beds.

The third time he does this, Johnny – heart pounding in his mouth – unplugs the phone and drops it in Ten’s lap. “Would you stop doing that? It’s distracting,” he says, fixing his eyes on the screen.

“Distracting?” Ten repeats, and Johnny can feel Ten’s eyes on him.

“I can’t see the screen with your body in the way.”

“Hm,” Ten says. “Okay.”

Ten settles back into his side of the bed and thankfully remains relatively still until the credits roll. Johnny makes uncomfortable eye contact with his own reflection in the black of the screen. 

“Want to keep watching?” Ten asks, sitting up and stretching out his legs.

“Sure,” Johnny responds, already leaning forward to press the “next episode” button. Ten climbs off the bed and skips to the bathroom, before he leans back around the door and smiles at him. Johnny’s traitorous stomach flips.

“Don’t start without me, hyung.”

“I’m not!” Johnny says defensively, pausing the show just as the opening credits of the next episode starts playing. Ten just smirks and shuts the door behind him.

When Ten comes back a few minutes later, he hops back into bed and snuggles up next to Johnny. “Okay, you can start,” he says, picking up Johnny’s hand and pushing his finger onto the spacebar. Johnny, laughing, shakes his hand off. Then, he yelps and sits up when something ice-cold touches his ankle.

He looks down, only to find Ten’s bare foot resting on his ankle. “Your feet are freezing, what the hell?” he says, looking indignantly over at Ten, who just smiles mischievously and runs the sole of his foot higher up Johnny’s leg, under his pants. “Why are your feet so cold?” Johnny insists, pulling his leg away, his heart pounding nearly out of his chest.

Ten giggles. “Sorry, I run cold. Bad circulation, I guess.” He tries to chase Johnny’s leg with his foot, but Johnny pushes him away.

“Can you go put your socks back on? I think you gave me frostbite.”

Ten pouts. “I don’t have socks. I wore my sandals today.” That’s right; Johnny remembers laughing at Ten when he had let him into the dorm – he was wearing a full-length coat and hat, with his ridiculous sandals peeking out from below his pants, his toes pink from the early spring chill.

Ten sighs dramatically, looking down at his bare feet. He sighs again, then looks up at Johnny through wide eyes.

“Johnny – ”

“Just take whatever you want,” Johnny interrupts with all the weariness of a man with a mysteriously shrinking wardrobe, though he knows Ten can see the small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Ten sits up happily and bends over the bed to pull out the box where Johnny keeps his socks. He scrounges around and pulls out a patterned wool pair. He rubs the thick fabric between his fingers and, evidently satisfied, tugs them on. He rolls back onto the bed and stretches out his feet in front of him, wiggling his toes.

“Your feet are so big, hyung,” Ten muses, bending forward to pinch at the extra inch of empty fabric above his toes. “What size are you?”

“Um, I don’t remember,” Johnny mutters, pulling his beanie lower to hide the pink at the tips of his ears. “Ask one of our stylists, I’m sure they know.”

Ten hums and settles back beside Johnny. This time, when he rests his feet on Johnny’s ankle, Johnny doesn’t pull away.

**Beanie**

As is their tradition from their trainee days, Johnny pays for the tickets and Ten pays for the popcorn.

They settle into the second-to-last row of the theater, which is mostly empty save for a group of middle school students and an amorous couple several rows down.

They chat quietly and share popcorn throughout the previews, then fall silent as the house lights dim completely and the movie starts playing. Neither of them really likes action movies, but it had been the only one playing at that time, so they had decided to just watch it instead of waiting thirty minutes for another showtime.

Johnny’s eyes start to glaze over when a car chase sequence starts, and he sneaks a glance at Ten. Instead of watching the movie, Ten is on his phone, editing a picture of his cats. Johnny watches in mild interest as Ten adjusts the color grading on Louis’ eyes, which only seems to enhance the cat’s thousand-yard stare.

Johnny shifts and slings his arm around the back of Ten’s chair. Ten lifts his head, then goes back to his phone.

The car chase sequence ends, and is soon followed by a loud gunfight in a shipyard. The bald villain appears from behind a shipping crate, brandishing one machine gun in each hand, with a deafening EDM soundtrack to back him up. In spite of himself, Johnny finds himself following the action of the scene with begrudging interest. 

He becomes so engrossed in the scene that he nearly jumps out of his seat when something brushes the nape of his neck. He looks over at Ten in surprise; Ten is still absorbed in his editing, but his other arm is up around Johnny’s back, his fingers tracing delicately over the hair peeking out from the bottom of Johnny’s hat.

Grateful for the dark of the theater, Johnny flushes and tries to concentrate again on the movie, but with his momentary lapse in attention, the movie is back to being an incomprehensible blur of noise and flashing lights.

He tries to ignore the feeling of Ten’s fingers slowly climbing up the back of his head, under his hat. He shivers when Ten curls his hand and runs his nails through his hair and over his scalp. Ten’s hand travels higher. He laces his fingers through the long hair and holds it gently, just keeping his hand still.

On screen, the helicopter being piloted by the main character explodes, followed by a long beat of dramatic silence. At the same moment, Ten tightens his grip and tugs, and Johnny gasps aloud. A few of the students in front of them start snickering.

“Ten - ” he hisses, his face a furnace.

Ten finally puts his phone away, looking up at Johnny innocently. “What?” He uses his hand to push Johnny’s beanie off and pulls it over his own head in one deft movement. “They have the aircon up way too high in here. My ears were getting cold. You don’t mind, right?”

“No, go right ahead,” Johnny says, sinking back into his seat and crossing his legs. “It’s not like I was wearing that.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, eyes flicking over to Ten. The beanie is pulled low over his eyes and the seam is facing the wrong way. He suppresses a laugh, then reaches over to adjust the hat so it sits properly on Ten’s head. Ten playfully tries to bat Johnny’s hand away, but gives in when Johnny persists.

The movie ends predictably, which is to say that the main character survives the helicopter crash and captures the villain after a drawn-out fistfight at the top of a skyscraper.

The house lights flick back on and the students file out, followed by the couple. For some reason that Johnny can’t figure out, Ten has always liked watching the credits, so he and Johnny stay in their seats, finishing up the last of the popcorn and debriefing about their thoughts on the movie (unsurprisingly, Ten does not have much to say about it).

When the last of the credits disappear, followed by the logos of various studios, Johnny holds out his hand. Ten looks down at it, confused, then slaps his hand. “No,” Johnny says, laughing. “Hat.”

Ten frowns up at him. “You gave it to me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sure you did.”

“You took it off my head.”

“Mm, that’s not how I remember it happening.” Before Johnny has a chance to respond, Ten hops out of his seat and makes his way down the row towards the exit, leaving Johnny with the empty popcorn bucket and his hand still outstretched.

**Sunglasses**

Johnny climbs the stairs to the roof, thankful for the chance to see sunlight for the first time that day since his arrival that morning before dawn. Earlier that day, Ten had texted Johnny about his whereabouts, and they both happened to be at the company building at the same time – a rarity these days. Ten had suggested the rooftop terrace, hoping to take advantage of the spate of warm, miraculously sunny days that had broken up the seemingly incessant cold rain of April.

Out on the roof, he finds Ten standing by the railing, looking out over the river below. Johnny closes the door gently behind him, careful to make sure it doesn’t lock them out, and Ten turns at the sound. He smiles at Johnny, a gust of warm breeze ruffling his hair over his face. Johnny’s heart flips.

He makes his way over to the railing and settles in beside Ten. The sun is bright and warm, and Johnny rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to feel the heat on his skin.

Ten breathes out and stretches out his arms, looking for all the world like a cat basking in the sunlight. Still leaning on the railing, he turns to look up at Johnny. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course,” Johnny says. “This was a good idea; I feel like I haven’t gotten any fresh air all week.” Ten nods in agreement.

They stand in comfortable silence for a long while, watching the boats and the people in the park far below. Eventually, Ten speaks. “My feet hurt.”

“Want me to carry you?” Johnny asks. Ten punches his arm playfully.

“Let’s sit down.”

Johnny follows Ten to the cluster of reclining chairs in the corner and sinks down, kicking up his feet on the footrest. Ten sits in the chair next to him and stretches out his arms again, letting out a squeaking sound and scrunching up his eyes.

Where they are sitting, the sun angles directly into their faces. Johnny fishes his sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on. With no hat or glasses, Ten is squinting, holding up his hand to shield his eyes from the light. Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny notices Ten eyeing his glasses covetously. While by this point, he knows exactly what Ten is after, Johnny decides to play dumb. If Ten wants any more of his belongings, he’s going to have to ask nicely this time.

Johnny folds his arms behind his head and shuts his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. He leans back into the chair and breathes deeply. When he cracks open one eye, Ten has one hand covering his phone screen while he squints down at it. Johnny closes his eyes.

After a minute, Johnny peeks again, only to catch Ten staring at him.

“Problem?” Johnny asks, grinning widely at him.

“Nope,” Ten responds innocently. “Nice out, isn’t it?”

Johnny hums in response and closes his eyes again. “Beautiful.”

Several minutes pass, and Johnny is almost lulled to sleep by the sound of the breeze and the muted rush of traffic from the street many stories below.

A shadow passes over his eyelids. On a hunch, Johnny blindly reaches out with his hand, only to make contact with something soft. “Ow!” Ten whines, and Johnny opens his eyes to see Ten standing above him, rubbing his stomach.

Johnny laughs. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

“Just stretching my legs,” Ten responds, scowling down at Johnny. “Can’t a man stand around here?”

Johnny shrugs. “Sure, knock yourself out.” Ten remains standing, half-heartedly lifting his knees to his chest and twisting his hips as he continues to glance at Johnny.

Just as Johnny starts to let his guard down, Ten lunges at him. Before Johnny even has a chance to react, Ten is bent over him with one knee on his chair, reaching for his face. 

“Hey!” Johnny protests indignantly, grabbing for Ten’s hands. Despite Ten’s squirming, Johnny manages to pin his arms by his sides. Ten tries valiantly to free himself, but Johnny’s superior strength has its perks, sometimes, and Ten gives up. Johnny pulls, and Ten stumbles into his lap, arms still pinned at his sides.

They are both breathing heavily. Johnny watches Ten warily, following the movement of his eyes. Suddenly, Ten leans in very close to him, puckers his lips, and – spits at his face.

“Blech – oh my god, Ten, are you kidding me?” Johnny sputters, wiping at the trail of saliva dripping down his cheek. With his arms freed and Johnny distracted, Ten makes a triumphant noise and plucks the glasses right off Johnny’s face. He falls off the chair and crawls away, cackling uncontrollably, as he slides the sunglasses on.

“It never occurred to you to try asking if you could have them? Jeez,” Johnny mutters, now enlisting the help of his shirtsleeve to finish cleaning Ten’s spit off his face.

Ten doesn’t answer, though; still laughing too hard to be able to piece together a coherent sentence without dissolving into a fit of giggles, he collapses onto the wooden floor.

“Just keep them, they look better on you anyway,” Johnny says, followed by a resigned sigh.

Ten, still giggling, manages to stand up and sink back down into his chair next to Johnny. The glasses do look good on him, although the lenses are too dark to see his eyes.

Ten, now satisfied, reclines, and stretches luxuriously before pulling out his phone. Johnny watches him, and he tries hard to ignore the hammering in his chest when Ten quickly meets his eyes and looks away. Though he can’t see it well through dark lenses of the glasses, Johnny imagines the crescent moon-shaped curve of Ten’s eyes when he smiles.

**Shirt**

Around a month later, Johnny finds himself in the main practice room for a team-wide meeting. The space is filled with most of the other members and their respective managers, who mill about in small groups around the room, chatting and laughing.

Johnny, Mark, Donghyuck, and Doyoung are seated in a small cluster by the far wall, helping each other stretch. Mark and Donghyuck are seated facing each other in mirrored splits, holding hands to take turns stretching. Johnny is knelt over Doyoung, pushing down on his back gently to help him reach his ankles.

A swell of voices and a peal of laughter cause Johnny to look up towards the door. In walk Dejun and Kun, followed by Yangyang and Lucas. Ten strides in after them, holding a coffee cup in one hand and his bag in the other.

Johnny begins to raise his hand in greeting, then his hand drops and his face heats up when he sees what Ten is wearing.

Ten is dressed head to toe in his clothes, from the patterned socks peeking out from between the straps of his sandals, the droopy grey sweatpants, the oversized high school sweatshirt, to the sunglasses perched in the folded-up cuff of the beanie.

Ten stops, searching around the room, then finds Johnny. He smiles, gives an innocent wave, and walks away to join some other members on the couch in the far corner of the room.

Johnny stares after him, heart hammering out of his chest. He looks around to see if anyone had noticed anything unusual, but no one is giving him any weird looks. Ten often wears baggy clothing, so that is not too surprising.

All throughout the rehearsal, Johnny can’t help his eyes from drifting over to Ten on the opposite side of the formation. Ten had somehow managed to secure the sweatpants so they no longer slide down off his hips even when he dances, though they still pool around his ankles.

During one moment during the choreography in which Johnny is only a few feet from Ten, he shuffles closer, intending to demand an explanation. But when he gets within earshot, Ten starts laughing at something Yuta says, and by the time Ten stops laughing, Johnny is supposed to be on the other side of the formation again.

Johnny finally manages to approach Ten at the end of practice. Most of the members have already left, though Ten is still packing up his belongings and chatting with Hendery. Johnny stalks up behind them, slides his arm over Ten’s shoulders, and hisses in his ear, “Can we talk?” Ten jumps and spins around. Hendery gives Johnny a weird look and scoots away towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” Ten says brightly, flashing Johnny a dazzling smile. “I have to go back to the dorm right now, I need to feed the cats before I leave for our next schedule. Maybe another time is better?”

“Oh, no,” Johnny says into his ear. “That’s alright, I’ll come with. I have nothing else to do now.”

Ten shrugs Johnny’s arm away. “Suit yourself.”

Johnny follows him out the doorway, down the hall, into the parking lot, and follows Ten into their manager’s car. Hendery is already there, and gives Johnny another look when he sits down next to him.

The whole ride back to the dorm, Johnny is staring daggers into the back of Ten’s head. The rapid Chinese in the car goes in one ear and out the other; he thinks he recognizes the word for “handsome,” but he could be wrong. He really should brush up on his Mandarin.

At the front door, Hendery hesitates. He looks around at the members behind him, then grabs Yangyang's arm, seemingly at random.

“Ah, what the – ”

“Yangyang and I are going for a walk, right Yangyang?” Hendery says loudly. He makes meaningful eye contact with Yangyang, who nods slowly.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Yangyang says, looking back at Hendery blankly, then lets himself get dragged back down the hallway towards the elevators.

Johnny, still too focused on Ten, doesn’t give the boys’ behavior a second thought. He follows Ten into the dorm, close at his heel when they walk into his and Hendery’s shared room.

Ten tosses his bag onto Hendery’s bed and kneels at the foot of his own bed, where the two cats are snuggled up in a pile. He coos at them, then gets up to refill the automatic feeding machine. The cats slink towards Ten, rubbing against his ankles, and he leans down to scratch their heads lovingly. It takes Ten all of two minutes to feed the cats, then he flops back down on his bed with a tired sigh. Johnny hasn’t left his spot by the entrance to the room, but he walks over when Ten sits down.

Ten sits up when Johnny approaches and pats the bed beside him. Johnny sits carefully. “So, what did you want to talk about?” Ten asks.

Johnny feels the flush rise in his cheeks again, his boldness from earlier evaporating under Ten’s wide, long-lashed gaze. He indicates loosely towards Ten. “You’re wearing all my clothes.”

Ten looks down at his body. “Oh! Yeah, I guess I am.” He smiles up at Johnny. “Was that it?”

“You – they don’t even fit you, look,” Johnny says, pinching at the loose fabric by Ten’s arm and holding it up for emphasis.

“I don’t mind,” Ten says. “I like it that way.”

Johnny suddenly finds himself at a loss for words, his mind drawing a complete blank as to his purpose for following Ten all the way back to his dorm.

“Well, you – you can’t just wear my clothes around.”

“Why? Does it bother you?” Ten asks, inching closer to him. Johnny resists his instinct to move away.

“Well, no, not exactly,” he says, following the movement of Ten’s eyes.

“Then what’s the problem?” Ten asks.

“You have your own clothes. And people might think – well, whatever, you have your own clothes. And I want these back.”

Ten squints at him for a moment, before smiling broadly and saying, “Okay, fine. You can have them back.” He stays seated on the bed next to Johnny, unmoving, his smile still plastered across his face. When Johnny stares at him blankly, Ten raises his eyebrows. “I said you can have them back. So, take them.” Then, he climbs off the bed and stands right in front of Johnny, his arms by his sides.

Ten’s bed is low to the ground; seated, Johnny is at eye-level with Ten’s sternum. It is a strange feeling, to not be towering over Ten for once. Johnny notices that Ten’s chest is still – he seems to be holding his breath, playing with the fabric hanging below his hands.

Johnny drops his eyes to Ten’s feet, to the patterned socks, and up his body, past the baggy pants and sweatshirt, to his face. Even in the low light of the room, Ten’s face is clearly pink. Despite his earlier confidence, he avoids Johnny’s eyes, looking instead at a spot on the wall behind his head.

“Okay,” Johnny says, watching Ten’s face for a reaction. “Glasses first then.” Ten makes no move to remove the glasses from his hat, even when Johnny holds out his hand. Johnny makes a sound of annoyance and reaches up to take the glasses himself. Ten swallows, the smile sliding off his face. Johnny inspects the glasses for scratches – they are pristine – and places them beside himself on the bed.

“Hat, please,” he says, his hand again outstretched. Ten stares resolutely at the wall. “Ten.”

“Fine,” Johnny mutters. He reaches up and pinches the top of the hat to pull it off, leaving Ten’s hair a fluffy mess. As tempted as Johnny is to fix Ten’s hair, he resists the urge.

Ten shuffles his feet. Johnny looks down. “Ten,” he says, exasperated. “I’m not going to take the socks off your feet.”

Without saying a word, Ten lifts his leg and hovers his foot in front of Johnny, managing to stand perfectly still despite having only one foot on the ground. Johnny looks up at him in disbelief. _Alright. Fine. If Ten wants to play like this, he can have his way._

Watching Ten’s face for a reaction, Johnny grips the back of his calf to hold his leg still. Ten wobbles slightly, but remains upright. Johnny wraps his other hand around Ten’s ankle, just above the top of the sock, and pushes it down slowly, over his heel, then finally off his foot. Ten’s toes twitch. Johnny lets his foot fall, then leans down to grab Ten’s other calf himself. Caught off guard, Ten nearly loses his balance, and falls forward to grab Johnny’s shoulder to keep himself upright. Johnny steadies him with a hand on his waist and pushes him back to standing. Ten’s hand remains on his shoulder.

Just as carefully as he did the first one, Johnny removes his other sock. In contrast to his previous stillness, Ten is now breathing unsteadily. Johnny lets Ten’s foot drop to the floor, tossing the sock carelessly behind him.

“You’re sure you want to keep playing this game?” Johnny asks. “I’m not leaving until I get all of my clothes back.” Ten shakes his head. Is Johnny imagining things, or did Ten just bite his lip?

“Fine.” He reaches up and pinches the fabric of the sweatshirt just above Ten’s stomach. “I want this next. This sweater means a lot to me.”

Ten shifts closer to Johnny until he is almost between his legs. He raises his arms and looks down at Johnny expectantly. Johnny laughs in disbelief, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Johnny grabs the hem of the sweatshirt, which sits around mid-thigh on Ten, and pulls it up, holding down Ten’s t-shirt with his other hand to keep it from lifting. Johnny has to tug to get it over his head, and Ten finally does help a bit, wiggling his arms to get them out of the sleeves. Ten’s hair is even more mussed up than before, and it takes all of Johnny’s remaining self-control – what little is left of it – to keep himself from brushing it down.

Ten drops his arms back to his sides. Despite the flush of his face, Johnny notices the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Johnny drops his gaze to Ten’s legs. He sighs, trying to ignore the pounding in his ears.

He knows how stubborn Ten is. He knows there is no point in saying it, but he does anyway. “Ten. The pants are next.” Ten looks down at him, face tactfully blank. “Ten,” he says again, a final warning. Ten holds his gaze, resolute, and raises his eyebrows.

Johnny shakes his head, not breaking eye contact as he shifts forward on the bed. He hesitates for just a moment before placing his hands on Ten’s hips, just above the waistband of his pants. This close, Johnny can hear Ten’s breathing, can even hear him when he swallows. When he hooks his fingers into the rolled-up waistband of the sweatpants, his fingers brush against the warm skin on Ten’s hips. Ten’s muscles jump under the touch. He hopes Ten can’t tell how much his hands are shaking.

Still somehow not fully believing what he is doing, Johnny tugs gently at the fabric, pulling it down slowly. Once the pants are past the swell of Ten’s hips, they fall down almost immediately, sitting in a messy pile around his feet. Taking a steadying breath, Johnny leans down; Ten picks up his feet and lets Johnny pull the pants from around his feet. Johnny sits back up and starts folding the sweatpants in his lap. The fabric is still warm.

He is hyper-aware of Ten in front of him, now in nothing but his t-shirt and underwear.

When he looks up, he is sure that Ten’s face is as red as his own. Finally, Ten speaks. “Alright, now you have all your clothes back. Happy?”

Johnny almost nods, then he stops himself. A thought pops into his head – an image, really, the ghost of an idea. He moves his mouth and verbalizes the thought before he even realizes what he is saying. “Shirt.”

Ten blinks. “What?”

Again, Johnny’s mouth seems to have a mind of his own. “Shirt. I want the shirt.” Ten looks down at his torso in confusion.

“But - this is mine, hyung.”

“And? That never stopped you from taking any of my things. Now I want something of yours.”

For once, Ten actually looks flustered. “Uh – okay,” he says, quickly regaining his composure. “Take it.”

“No,” Johnny says, rising off the bed stand in front of Ten. Now, he looks down at Ten, who doesn’t step away despite their sudden closeness. “You’re going to give it to me.”

To his surprise, Ten nods, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Okay,” he breathes. He reaches down and wraps the hem of his shirt in his fingers, then slowly raises it over his head. Johnny swallows, eyes tracing over the crescent-shaped tattoo on Ten’s chest. Ten pulls the shirt off all the way and pushes it into Johnny’s hands.

Johnny lets it drop to the floor. Ten follows the movement of the shirt, then slowly looks back up at Johnny.

The air between them seems to stand still. Johnny’s head spins with the dizzying closeness, from the feeling of Ten’s small, warm body so close to his. Drunk on the feeling, Johnny lifts his hands and rests them on Ten’s waist. Ten shivers, but doesn’t push him away. His torso rises and sinks as he breathes. Beneath his fingertips, Johnny can feel Ten’s heart beating through his ribcage. His skin is so smooth, the lithe muscle covered by a layer of soft flesh. Johnny digs in his fingers, and Ten breathes out, hot onto his neck.

“Is this what you were after? The whole time?” Johnny asks, daring to break the heavy silence between them.

Ten pauses. “Did it work?” he breathes, lips parting around the words.

Johnny follows the movement of his lips. “Yes.”

As though driven by the same sudden impulse, Johnny circles his arms around Ten’s waist at the same moment Ten grabs his shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed, crawling into his lap.

Chest heaving, Johnny flips them so he is on top of Ten, so he can feel Ten’s small, warm body under his. Ten tangles his hair in Johnny’s hair and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, pulls Johnny’s mouth onto his own.

Ten’s mouth is warm and soft, and parts easily for Johnny. Johnny slides his hand up and down Ten’s side, from his waist to his thigh; suddenly nothing matters except touching Ten’s body as much as possible. Johnny’s head spins, still not fully believing what is happening, as Ten wraps his legs around Johnny’s waist, pulling him closer, and keens into his mouth. Johnny pushes down his hips, swallowing down a moan when he feels Ten growing hard beneath him.

“You’re such a tease, you know that?” Johnny mumbles into Ten’s mouth. Ten laughs breathily in response.

“And you’re so easy to rile up,” Ten responds, biting playfully at Johnny’s lower lip. “Getting off on me wearing your clothes? So cliché.”

“I do not get off on you wearing my clothes!” Johnny says indignantly, raising himself on his elbows to glare down at Ten, who just giggles and slides his hand between Johnny’s legs.

“Oh, really?” He says, squeezing and laughing again when Johnny drops his head and moans. “What’s this for, then?”

Johnny groans, having no response, and pushing his hips down into Ten’s grip. “That’s what I thought,” Ten says into his ear, and slides his hand into Johnny’s pants. “I think you like me in your clothes almost as much as you like me out of them.” He giggles, which turns into a surprised gasp when Johnny noses down his chest and pulls his nipple between his teeth.

“Oh,” he whines, surprised, when Johnny licks his hand and uses it to pinch his other nipple, sliding his wet fingers over the pert bud. Johnny licks over the tattoo and the sensitive skin of the scar underneath, savoring the taste of Ten on his tongue. Though he still can’t fully wrap his head around what is happening, something about it feels exactly right. Inevitable, even, that he would have Ten underneath him, breathing out his name when he licks, hot and firm, over his nipple and up to his neck.

A sudden, loud knock on the door makes Johnny bolt upright, eyes wide. Ten smothers a laugh behind his hand.

“Ten?” comes Dejun’s hesitant voice through the door. “Kun told me to tell you that we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

Ten swallows down another laugh, eyes twinkling as he looks up at Johnny. He pulls Johnny’s mouth back to his neck, and rolls up his hips when Johnny bites gently. “Okay, I’ll be out soon!” Ten calls, tightening his grip in Johnny’s hair.

The sound of Dejun’s footsteps disappears down the hallway. Johnny runs his teeth over Ten’s jaw, and Ten squeals. “You’re so shameless,” Johnny says into his skin.

“You love it,” Ten responds, dropping his head back onto the pillow and closing his eyes, sighing out softly when Johnny moves up to kiss his ear, sucking on his studded earlobe.

“I do,” Johnny says, warmth pooling in his stomach. Ten shivers at the voice in his ear, then wraps his arms around Johnny’s back, hugging him closer. “I really do.”

They emerge from Ten’s room exactly thirteen minutes later into a miraculously empty living room, Johnny red-faced and messy-haired, Ten clinging onto his arm.

By the front door, Ten pulls Johnny down for another kiss. “What about the clothes?” Ten murmurs into his mouth. Johnny looks down at him, confused. “What clothes?”

Ten pinches his arm. “Your clothes, dummy. You went to all that trouble to get them back.”

_Right_. “Oh, yeah - ” Johnny cuts himself off to push his tongue into Ten’s mouth. Ten sighs and raises himself up on his tiptoes, then pulls back. “Uh, keep them, I don’t really care,” Johnny says, already chasing Ten’s mouth again. Ten, like the demon he is, cranes his neck away from Johnny’s advances.

“So, you don’t mind if I wear them to practice again?” His eyes are sparkling mischievously.

“Hm,” Johnny says, spinning Ten around to pin him against the door, holding him by the hips. “You can wear them to practice, but I might have to take them back again. And I can’t promise that I can wait until I get back to your dorm to do that.”

Ten whimpers when Johnny presses his thigh between his legs. “I guess – I guess we’ll have to see,” he says shakily, in between panting breaths.

“Mm, I guess we will,” Johnny says, shifting his thigh and tightening his grip on Ten’s hips.

A noise from down the hallway causes them to finally stumble apart. Ten regains his composure, runs his fingers through his hair, and flashes Johnny a dazzling smile that makes Johnny’s stomach flip.

The next week, Ten arrives to the practice room wearing Johnny’s clothes from head to toe. Hendery is out the door long before Johnny manages to approach them after practice.

Johnny kneels next to Ten and pretends to tie his shoe. 

“Cute sweatshirt,” he says, low enough for only Ten to hear.

“Thanks,” Ten responds, eyes twinkling. “It’s new.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is very silly. Thanks for reading :) take care of yourselves, everybody 
> 
> \- OG <3


End file.
